More Than My Neighbor
by Mor'DuTheBronyBear
Summary: "Actually, Aaron, I think of you as more than just my neighbor," Mark admitted, a blush tinting his cheeks. Markimash (Markiplier and Yamimash) AU where the two men are neighbors in America. Over time, their friendship evolves into something more, and Mark discovers Aaron's (Yami's) darkest secret. T for language. MAY OR MAY NOT UPDATE ANYMORE IN THE FUTURE
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! Thank you for giving this story a read! Markimash has become one of my favorite things, and I had an idea one day, so here it is. These chapters will commonly be delayed, but I work very hard on them all, if that's any consolation. I hope you enjoy!**

Mark dashed for the yellow vehicle through the torrential rain, holding a newspaper over his head in a futile attempt to keep dry. The man crawled into the back seat, shaking out his dark hair and wiping the drops from his glasses. "Hey, take it easy with the shaking, will you? You're soaking me," a heavily accented voice complained from the seat next to him. Mark blinked and put his glasses back on so he could see who spoke. "Sorry, man," he replied, telling the cab driver where to go before turning his attention back to the other man. "Uh, I'm Mark," he offered, extending his hand for a shake.

The other man took his hand and shook. "I'm Aaron. Nice to meet you."

Mark raised an eyebrow at the accent; he obviously wasn't from around there. "Are you British?" he asked. Aaron nodded. "Yes, I am." Mark smiled a little. "Thought so. It's pretty cool to meet someone like you in person!" he told Aaron happily, the other man giving him an odd look. "What do you mean 'someone like me'? I'm a normal guy, like you. I just have an accent." He crossed his arms over his chest. Mark chuckled. "I guess you're right. Sorry."

As they rode to Mark's apartment building the rest of the way in silence, Mark realized that he had seen Aaron before. It bugged him, though, because no matter how hard he tried to remember, he couldn't place where he'd seen the British man beside him.

The taxi stopped in front of the tall apartment complex, Mark paying the driver and stepping out onto the sidewalk, grimacing when the rainwater soaked through his black Vans. He shut the taxi door and started for the entrance to the building, but was stopped in his tracks by a familiar voice. "Hey, Mark! Wait for me!"

Mark glanced over his shoulder to see Aaron trudging through the rain towards him. His confusion quickly shifted to understanding. "I knew I'd seen you before!" Mark exclaimed. "You live here too!"

Aaron eventually caught up with Mark. "Yep, I do. I knew you looked familiar as well. I just couldn't tell where I'd seen you."

The two men entered the large lobby, both dripping rainwater on the pristine tile floor as they walked. Aaron grimaced as his shoes made gross squishing sounds with each step he took. "I can't wait to get into some dry clothes," he mumbled as he got into the elevator with Mark. The other man nodded. "Me too. Rain sucks."

As Mark pushed the button for the third floor, he asked, "What floor do you need?" Aaron leaned against the back wall of the elevator and smiled a little. "I live on the third as well." Mark stepped away as the doors closed and stood next to Aaron as they rode, his stomach doing odd flips as the elevator came to a stop after a minute or so. Mark walked into the long hallway headed for his apartment, glancing over his shoulder to see where Aaron was going. To the man's surprise, Aaron was following him once again. As he inserted the key into the lock, he heard Aaron say, "See ya," as he entered the apartment across the hall from Mark's. "Yeah, see ya," Mark called over his shoulder, stepping into his dark apartment and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Mark flipped the light switch and watched as his apartment was illuminated in a soft glow. The tired man yawned and headed for his bathroom, shivering at the air conditioner blowing in his face. He just hoped the hot water would prevent him from catching a cold. "I knew I should've brought an umbrella with me," he mumbled softly as he peeled the soaked clothes off his clammy body and stepped under the hot spray, closing his eyes and letting it turn his dark hair into a wet mess that fell in black strands over his eyes. He definitely needed a haircut soon.

Once he was clean and exceptionally sleepy, Mark toweled himself dry and went to his room to slip on some clean boxers and red flannel pajama pants. He didn't bother with a shirt, since he expected to go to sleep soon anyway, but that plan was quickly shot down when he heard a loud bang from across the hall, accompanied by a faint yelp of pain.

"What the hell was that?" he wondered aloud, grabbing his glasses off his nightstand and placing them on his nose before heading for the front door. As he entered the hallway, a couple of other residents were peeking out of their doors towards Aaron's apartment.

Mark approached the beige door and knocked lightly, crossing his arms over his bare chest. The door opened a small crack, and Mark could see half of Aaron's face peeking through. From what he could tell, the boy's eyes were narrowed and filled with rage, but quickly softened once he realized it was Mark.

"Oh, hi Mark," he said softly. His voice was a little nasally and it sounded as if he had been crying. "What's up?"

Mark tried to play it cool and not sound too concerned; they had only just met, after all. "Oh, not much. I just, uh, heard some noises and I was just wondering what happened," his deep voice rumbled, laced with just the slightest bit of concern.

The smaller boy stared at the dark maroon carpet, avoiding meeting Mark's gaze at all costs, it seemed. "It's nothing," he said softly, his voice cracking just the slightest. Mark frowned at the blatant lie. "That didn't seem like nothing." Aaron's eyes narrowed once again as he glared at Mark through the cracked door, brown eyes full of fight and something else. Mark just couldn't tell what.

"Look, it was a nice gesture, but I promise I don't need your help," Aaron mumbled, a hint of warning in his tone.

Mark decided not to press the issue. The last thing he needed was an enemy living directly across from him. The young man wasn't the kind of person to make enemies, anyway, since he was generally a kind and easy-going person, but he knew other people weren't as patient and forgiving as himself.

Smiling a little, Mark said, "Alright then. See ya later." The slightest bit of a smile pulled at the corner of Aaron's mouth as he shut the door without another word.

Mark looked at the door for a few seconds before he ran a hand through his damp hair and sighed, going back into his own apartment.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

On the other side of the door, Aaron sighed with relief.

'That was close. Mark doesn't need to know.'

The British boy walked over to the hole in the wall, put there by himself only moments earlier, and tried to move his left hand, flinching when pain shot through his fingers. He had effectively broken it, more than likely. His eyes narrowed at his own stupidity. "Now I'll have to get a fucking cast and pay for the wall to be fixed," he growled softly. "God, why do I have to be like this?"

He banged his forehead against an undamaged part of the wall and sighed heavily, feeling more tears gathering in his eyes. But Aaron refused to let any more fall. It was his nightly routine, normally, to cry himself to sleep after he got the anger out of his system, but that night, Aaron was going to make himself think positive thoughts so that he could go to bed in a good mood, and, in turn, wake up in a semi-good mood. If Aaron could start the day fairly happy, he could put on a mask of positivity that would, hopefully, last the whole day, until the time came for him to return home and fall victim to his own mind.

Of course, the true meaning of "happy" varied from person to person, and Aaron's own personal version was practically nonexistent. But he would keep trying to make the best of things until he no longer could.

If Mark only knew what went on in the apartment across the hall, Aaron's life might've been different. But of course, Aaron would never let anyone know. No one could.

After some contemplation, Aaron decided that he should at least try to bandage his hand so he could go to bed. He got an Ace wrap from his medicine cabinet and wrapped it snugly around his wrist and fingers before collapsing into his cold bed, letting the darkness pull him into a restless sleep.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

The next morning, Mark and Aaron somehow managed to exit their apartments at the exact same moment, resulting in awkward half-smiles and avoided gazes that continued down the elevator and into the lobby. Of course, Mark didn't like the overall atmosphere between them one bit, but what could he do about it?

As they walked together to the taxi outside, Mark's eyes fell on Aaron's bandaged hand. Curiosity got the better of him and he had to ask.

"Did you do that last night?" Mark asked softly, words barely audible for the sound of the taxi's roaring motor. He saw Aaron visibly flinch at the question. "Uh, yeah," the other man answered, his eyes suddenly focused on a crack in the pale sidewalk instead of Mark's face.

"How?"

"Why do you care?"

The question came out harsher than Aaron had intended, and he saw a flash of hurt cross Mark's features immediately. "No reason." Mark climbed into the cab and paid the driver, his eyes never leaving the window as they rode. He hated that something so small bothered him, but he couldn't help it. After all, he was actually more sensitive than he let on most of the time. But he'd never let Aaron know that, especially now that it seemed their newly-formed friendship was going down the toilet already. 'Wow, he liked me for a whole day. That must be a new record.'

"What's a hobby of yours?" Aaron suddenly asked, disrupting the droning silence in the cab. Mark raised an eyebrow. "Well, I play video games. That's about it. Why did you want to know?"

Aaron sighed and smiled a bit. This was a good sign. "I want to start over. We've known each other for less than a day, and I've already been awful to you," he explained. "I've never played video games before, but I can learn, if that's something you might wanna do with me for fun sometime." Of course, Aaron would understand completely if Mark refused. Playing video games together might be pushing the boundaries too far too soon.

Mark's mouth dropped open. "You've never played video games before?!"

A chuckled escaped Aaron as he said, "Nope, never."

"Then you're coming over. Tonight. No questions."

'Well, this went easier than expected...' Aaron grinned. "Alright then. Sounds good."

As the cab traveled down the busy streets, the atmosphere surrounding the two men changed, going from awkward and reluctant to hopeful and positive.

"You haven't been awful to me, by the way." Mark's deep voice cut through the silence. "Something is wrong, and I understand that you're just stressed out. No worries, alright?"

Aaron didn't respond, but the boy smiled a little. 'He's so understanding. I can't believe he's putting up with me. If only he knew...'

Soon, the cab came to a stop in front of Aaron's workplace, a looming 5-story office building. "Well, I guess I'll see you later," Aaron said as he paid the driver. He started to walk away, but before he could, Mark called, "Hey, Aaron."

The boy looked at Mark. "Yes?"

"I meant it. Come over tonight. I'll have snacks and stuff. We'll have a good time."

Smiling, Aaron accepted the invitation and, with a wave, shut the cab door and trudged through the biting cold air to the main entrance. The usual sinking feeling he got when entering the establishment hit Aaron like a smack to the face, all happiness he had felt from his conversation with Mark long gone.

He clocked in and sank into his leather desk chair, running a hand through his fair brown bangs as he shot a disdainful glance at the towering stacks of papers he had to get through.

"The sooner I get to work, the sooner I can go home," he mumbled to himself as he picked up the first paper. 'And the sooner I can see Mark again,' a small part of his brain whispered. 


	2. Chapter 2

**(Hello all! I think I've decided that these chapters will be put up every two months. This gives me plenty of time to make them awesome, and it's also just a nice, even number. Hope you enjoy chapter 2!)**

He still couldn't believe it.

A day prior, Aaron would never have thought that he would be sitting in some other guy's apartment, trying to remember the correct combination of buttons to execute the move he wanted in Mortal Kombat. He probably wouldn't have even known what Mortal Kombat was.

But there he was, sitting next to Mark on an old leather couch, gripping the controller in his hands tightly with narrowed eyes, groaning when his character was knocked unconscious by Mark's for the umpteenth time that night.

"God dammit! Mark, I'm awful at this!" he pouted. Mark just grinned at his friend. "You're not that bad. You've just never played before. It takes some practice."

Aaron sighed and put the controller down on the coffee table, stretching out his fingers. Luckily, the injury to Aaron's hand wasn't as extreme as he had thought, and by the end of work, he was moving his fingers fine, as if nothing had ever happened. Of course, the reason his hand got hurt in the first place wouldn't easily be forgotten.

"Alright," Mark said. "What do you want to play now? We've done pretty much everything with Mortal Kombat."

Aaron rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I don't know. I'm not very knowledgeable about what games are good and which games suck. I'll leave that to you."

Mark winked. "A wise decision, my friend. You're looking at a guy that's been gaming his entire life. I can tell you what's worth your time."

"I'm sure," Aaron responded with a smirk.

Mark left the couch to dig through the cabinet in the entertainment center where the TV and game console sat, emerging from the cluttered mess soon with a game in his hand. "Champions of Norrath! This one is kinda old and takes a while to complete, but we can at least start it tonight."

Aaron nodded, and Mark switched the Mortal Kombat disc with the one for Champions of Norrath before plopping back down on the couch with Aaron. He straightened his glasses and ran a hand through his dark hair. "I still can't believe you never played video games before tonight."

"My family just never did anything like that," Aaron explained. "I was never exposed to it. But I see now what I've been missing." It was the truth; Aaron couldn't remember the last time he had had such a good time. In Mortal Kombat, even though he lost quite a bit, Mark's laughter and good attitude was contagious, and Aaron found himself laughing right along. But despite the good time he was having, Aaron simply wasn't used to staying up that late; plus, the screen was fatiguing his eyes, making him very sleepy. It was all he could do to keep from falling over as the game started up.

Mark glanced over and saw Aaron's hunched form and his bowed head. His breathing was deep and shallow, as if he was asleep, so Mark shook his shoulder lightly.

"You alright, buddy?"

Aaron opened his eyes with a small jump. "Oh, uh, yeah. I'm fine."

"You seem kinda tired. Should you maybe be getting home to bed?"

"What? Nah, I'm fine," Aaron mumbled, waving a hand dismissively, only to let lose a large yawn the next second. Mark smirked at his friend. 'He's kinda cute when he's sleepy,' he mused, blushing a little at his thoughts.

The menu for the game soon appeared on the screen. Mark selected "New Game" and watched as the familiar music flowed from the TV's speakers. He always enjoyed the introduction cut scene for some reason.

Aaron, however, was soon curled up on the couch, snoring softly as the introduction played, the snoozing man not catching a bit of it. Mark didn't even notice that Aaron was asleep, so when the cut scene was over and it was time to customize their characters, Mark cleared his throat. "Alright, there's a few different races to choose from, and lots of ways to-" he trailed off when a particularly loud snore escaped Aaron. Looking over, Mark's mouth curled into a soft smile as he took in the sight before him.

"I knew you were sleepy, but geez," he mumbled. Sighing, Mark got up gently from the couch and shut the game console down, turning the TV off as well. 'What am I gonna do? Just let him sleep here?'

Mark grabbed a blanket that was draped over the arm of the recliner in the corner and covered up Aaron's slumbering form gently before going to the bathroom for a shower.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

For the second night in a row, Mark's night time routine was disrupted by a mysterious noise, this time from inside his own apartment.

It was a shrill whimper, similar to what a puppy in pain might utter. Mark had no clue what it could be, except Aaron, of course, so he trudged through the apartment to the living room to check on his friend.

The navy blanket that had been so carefully placed over Aaron was crumpled in a wad on the floor by the couch, cushions strewn around. It looked as if a hurricane had hit the room, and on the couch was the source of the destruction, Hurricane Aaron. He was tossing and turning, clearly distressed, and Mark didn't quite know how to process what he was seeing. It wasn't until Aaron cried out, "No! Leave me alone!" that Mark finally went into action.

"Hey, Aaron! Wake up, man!" Mark shook Aaron by the shoulders until he finally opened his eyes. The hazel orbs were wide and full of fear, and Aaron grasped Mark's shirt tightly in his fists. "It... It was gonna kill me!" he exclaimed, tears beginning to well in his eyes. Mark sighed and ran his fingers through Aaron's hair lightly. "It's alright," he murmured. "It was a dream. Nothing real."

Aaron blinked and turned his face away, ashamed for acting like such a child in front of Mark. It was bad enough when he had those spells alone in his apartment, but he could cry himself back to sleep and everything would be grand. Now he had to face the humiliation of giving Mark an explanation.

Mark looked at his friend. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" he offered, fingers still running through Aaron's hair. Aaron cringed away from Mark, as if the gentle movements burned his scalp, and Mark removed his hand, severely wishing he hadn't done that. Sitting up slowly, one of Aaron's shaking hands raked through the fair brown mess atop his head. "I-It's nothing," he whispered, tired eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at Mark. He could feel Mark's gaze burning into him, and even though he knew that Mark was genuinely concerned and that he should be grateful to have someone finally give a shit, he really just wished he could dig a hole through the floor and escape the whole situation.

Mark's mouth turned down into a frown. "Again with the lies," he muttered under his breath, but the remark didn't go unheard. "Look, there are just some things that I can't talk about," he retorted cooly. He got to his feet and headed for the door, grabbing his black hoodie from the coat rack. "I-I'll see you later," he grumbled without turning around, and then he was gone.

Mark's eyes didn't move from the oak door for what felt like hours. His brain was trying to catch up, trying to process what had just happened. How things had shifted so quickly, Mark didn't understand. One minute, the two of them were like two peas in a pod, as if they had known each other for much longer than a day and a half. And then, everything changed. He groaned and leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. No matter how exhausted he was, sleep was not an option; his mind was racing faster than their friendship had crumbled, it seemed, if that was even possible.

"Yeah, just as I thought. When it comes to losing friends, I've set a new record," Mark mused bitterly, eyes fluttering open to stare at the pale white ceiling above him. How dust had managed to collect up there was a mystery that would have to be solved another time. All Mark cared about at that moment was the mystery of Aaron.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Mark had seen a lot of things in his twenty five years, but what happened the following day was one thing that he had yet to experience.

Aaron stood in his doorway, wearing the same black hoodie and a pair of faded jeans, his brown hair combed neatly. Almost too neatly, Mark thought, like too much effort had been put into looking normal, and that worried him. He shut his eyes for a second to make his irrational thoughts scatter, and opened them again, still in awe at the sight in front of him. Besides the hoodie and jeans, Aaron was wearing a crooked half smile, of all things, leaving Mark quite befuddled. In terms of speaking, Mark didn't even know where to start; as if Aaron read his mind, the smaller man spoke.

"Hey."

"Hey"? That's how it was going to go? Mark had expected something a lot more bitter than what he got, but he certainly wasn't about to complain. "Uh, yeah. Hey." 'Shit, did that sound too stiff? Smile, dumbass!' He flashed a grin at his friend and prayed that it didn't look as forced as it felt. "Wanna come in?"

Aaron stepped inside and hung his hoodie on the rack, kicking his shoes off, and Mark was confused once again. How on earth could Aaron act so damn casual? Mark was struggling to keep it together already, and Aaron had literally just walked in the door. He forced himself to calm down and shut the door softly before heading into the kitchen. "Want a beer?" he asked, pulling the fridge open. Aaron leaned on the wall, next to where the tiled kitchen floor met the white carpet of the living room. "Sure," he answered. Mark set a can on the table for Aaron and took his own to the living room, taking a seat in his computer chair as he opened it and took a sip. Aaron joined him and sat on the couch, looking at Mark's impressive setup. He had no clue how he missed the huge mahogany desk in the corner before. On top was a computer monitor, about a foot and a half wide. Down underneath the desk was the actual tower part of the computer, the inner workings humming softly. Returning his gaze to the monitor, Aaron noticed that Mark had a game of some sort paused.

The strangest part about the desk, though, was the professional quality microphone and camera placed near the monitor. Curiosity got the better of him and he had to ask.

"Mark, what's with all that stuff on your desk?"

"Hmm?" Mark set his beer on the coffee table, safely away from all the equipment on his desk. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you: I have a YouTube channel," he told Aaron casually. "I play games and stuff and record them, and then I put the videos on my channel for people to watch."

"And people actually find that entertaining?" Aaron took a sip of his beer. "That's a bit hard to believe."

Mark nodded. "Yeah, it kinda is, when you really think about it, but people love this stuff, and I love doing it, so it's a win-win situation." Suddenly, Mark got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing a dark oak chair and bringing it into living room where he placed it beside his computer chair. "Wanna see how it all works?"

Although Aaron was still in disbelief that watching someone else play video games could possibly be entertaining to anyone, he couldn't help but be intrigued. "Sure," he said, and he took a seat beside Mark. "So, what does all this do?"

Mark scratched his head. "Well, it's nothing too complicated. I've got a camera here that records my face, a mic right here to capture my voice, and while I play a game, I've got a recording program going on my computer that captures what's happening on my monitor. Whatever I see, my viewers see, unless I edit something out, which happens pretty often, actually."

Aaron blinked; that seemed like a lot of work to do for one video. "Well, what sort of games do you play?"

"Oh, all kinds. I do a lot of horror, but it's definitely not limited to that."

Mark closed out of the game that he had paused and clicked a shortcut on his desktop. The menu popped up, and Aaron read the title: "Garry's Mod".

"What's Garry's Mod?" he questioned, and Mark grinned as he answered, "A super fun game. You can do anything with this game on your own, but the multiplayer is what makes it awesome. There's a mode called Prop Hunt that my fans go crazy for."

The term "fans" intrigued Aaron; it was such an odd thing to think about. This big, goofy guy who simply loved to play games had fans, people that watched him on a regular basis, the way he himself watched his favorite television show. But, as weird as it was, he had to admit that the whole business had certain appeal.

"So, um, how would one get started with something like this?"

Mark smiled at him. "Oh, do you wanna have a channel? Great!"

Aaron blushed a bit. "Well, I-I don't know yet," he said. "It sure looks interesting, to say the least." Mark chuckled. "You sound so proper with your fancy Britianland accent."

"What the hell kind of name is Britianland? Americans are weird..." he mumbled, but he couldn't keep the smirk off his face.

"Whatever," Mark retorted. "Anyway, all you need to get started is a computer, a webcam, and a mic. I recommend doing a little introduction video first, so people know you. Then you can do whatever you want. Your channel is yours to do whatever you want with."

As Mark spoke about YouTube and the elements that went into it, his dark eyes sparkled and there was a constant smile on his face. Aaron sighed, wishing he could have a passion for something like that. For years, he'd looked and looked for something, some small little hobby to give his life meaning. He'd failed in finding it so many times that he'd almost given up, but something about having his own YouTube channel ignited a new spark of hope within him.

"Alright, I'll make one."

"Awesome!" Mark grinned. "I'll help you with whatever you need. And, if you want, we could even play a game together sometime! It'd help your channel grow pretty quick."

All of this was foreign to Aaron, but he nodded anyway; Mark had the experience, obviously, so listening to the other man's advice seemed to be the right plan.

He didn't know how things would go, if he'd be any good, but Aaron was willing to give it his all, if it meant helping his fucked-up mind get back to normal, or as close to normal as it could get.


End file.
